<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tip-Yip Soup for the Soul by mudkipwrites</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702428">Tip-Yip Soup for the Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites'>mudkipwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine Cuddles [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But In Space, Chicken Soup, Family time, Ficlets, Found Family, Gen, M/M, New Relationship, Sick Character, Sick-Fics, Sickfic, Soup, Wholesome Space Dad Hours, for the soul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:07:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 3 of a collection of KalluZeb sick-fics based upon various prompts and suggestions. I hope they provide you with a little distraction and cheer during this time! Stay sane out there! &lt;3</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus &amp; Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine Cuddles [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tip-Yip Soup for the Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on the prompts: “Meanwhile, Zeb's destroyed the galley trying to make soup” and "Please, we need wholesome Space Dad hours!"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>
  <span>Garazeb Orrelios hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to blow up the micro-oven, and yet, here he stands: d</span>
  <span>renched head to toe in noodly, hot tip-yip broth; dripping with golden, steaming liquid from his thick, purple-striped fur, from his arms to his chest; shuddering from the unpleasant feeling of having the hot, salt-rich liquid soaking through his flexible jumpsuit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, </span>
  <em>
    <span>karabast,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he rumbles, flicking some broth off his foot and onto the <em>Ghost's </em>tiny kitchenette floor. </span>
  <span>“That’s probably gonna leave a </span>
  <span>smell</span>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p><span>Zeb is <em>not </em>what you'd call a 'picky eater.'</span> <span>He doesn’t often use the galley’s nifty gadgets--particularly, the cursed micro-oven. When he is hungry, he simply eats whatever is available (a<em>fter all these years with the rebels, he's learned not to refuse  a spalami sandwich.</em>) And, typically, such a feature would not make him feel self-conscious about himself in the slightest. And yet, today it does. </span><span>Because, <em>today, </em>Alexsandr Kallus had woken up in his bed. Feeling sick. With a cold. </span><span>And come Sith-hells or high water, Zeb's bound and determined to make something <em>nice </em>for his new boyfriend, and to make him feel as though he is cared for, looked after, and at home. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>But, <em>perhaps</em>, he should have started by cooking with something less...</span>
  <em>
    <span>combustible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a warning knock on the door, and it makes the soup-soaked Lasat jump guiltily. Whistling, Jedi knight Kanan Jarrus comes strolling into the kitchen, his sightless eyes searching across the destroyed space. For a moment, he acts as though he does not notice Zeb's presence. But then, he turns and stares <em>directly </em>at him with those pale, sightless eyes, waiting for explanation. </span>
  <span>"H-<em>hey, </em>Kanan!" Zeb greets, voice booming to an excessive cheer. "What're ya up to right now?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heya, Zeb," the blind Jedi replies calmly. "Say, can you tell me why I smell something <em>burning</em>?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inwardly, Zeb cringes. <em>Space Dad misses nothing. </em>Even without his eyesight, Kanan is more intuitive than most beings in the surrounding galaxy. The Lasat licks his lips nervously and shoots a glance at the messy floor as the blind Jedi raises one angular eyebrow. In a fruitless gesture, he hides the soup can behind his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah...no idea!” he lies brightly. “Just makin’ up a little snack. How are you feelin' today? Nice mornin', eh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The human smiles in amusement, as if he can see Zeb’s failure at stealth. The Lasat wonders sometimes if he actually can, using the Force to sense out emotional gestures rather than physical ones. </span>
  <span>“Well, for the most part, pretty good, Zeb. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m getting the feeling that you’re not telling me something...</span>
  <em>
    <span>important</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
  <span>He lifts his sharply-defined eyebrows meaningfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh. I….” Zeb winces, setting the cylinder back on the stovetop. <em>Karabast. Best to just get it out there. </em>“Guess I sorta blew up the micro-oven. Heh heh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins back at Kanan sheepishly, but the</span>
  <span> other man just shrugs and scratches his beard. He does not look surprised or distressed, merely curious. </span>
  <span>“Sure, sure, I figured as much. But, actually, Zeb...that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I was getting at.” He must be able to anticipate Zeb's confused blink, for he continues: "You got a minute? I've been hoping that we could talk." He gestures towards the table. </span>
</p>
<p>Uncertain, but certainly trusting his friend, Zeb nods in agreement. "Yeah, alright. Hang on a sec, let me grab a towel..." </p>
<p>
  <span>While the Jedi takes a seat the kitchenette table, he retrieves a towel and cleaning supplies from where they rest under the food disposal. However, as he crouches down to begin moping, Kanan interrupts. </span>
  <span>“I can help," he says mildly. Raising one hand, holding it steadily over the flat of the galley table, he taps into the Force and uses levitation. </span>
  <span>As Garazeb watches, droplets of gold, spattered soup and scattered noodles begin to shiver and rise. To his wonder, the salty liquid begins to collect into large puddles, hovering just above the floor’s shining surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zeb proclaims, sitting down at the table across from the Jedi. “Or, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Force </span>
  </em>
  <span>is weird, at least,” he chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kanan agrees. With a gesture, he returns the swirling globe back into the kettle. He smiles at Zeb, pale-white eyes crinkling at the edges with age and laughter. The pair of them sit in companionable silence for a moment, until the Jedi reaches out and affectionately pats his hand. </span>
  <span>“Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to ask about your new boyfriend, Kallus." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This catches him by surprise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh!” Garazeb stares uncertainly at where the human’s tanned skin rests against his large, purple knuckles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is this? Kanan doesn't like Kallus. Doesn't trust him. Doesn't trust the Empire. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet, the Force-user had been nothing but welcoming since the former ISB-agent turned Fulcrum had entered their ship. Zeb had expected him to resent Kallus for holding and torturing him, but he had never broached the subject even once. <em>Is he going to tell me that I better leave off? </em>"S-sure. What do'ya need?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kanan draws back and steeples his fingers. Zeb isn't always fluent in human gestures, but he can tell that he's been watched with a careful observance. If it was anyone but his friend of many years, he would feel awkward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I was going to ask you that very question.” </span>
  <span>Kanan gazes at him steadily. It is as if he can actually see him sitting there <em>(or, perhaps, as if he can see right </em></span>
  <em>
    <span>through</span>
    <span> him). </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Because, Zeb, for as long as I’ve ever known you, you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to have a relationship. I see how happy and hopeful you are right now, and I want to be supportive of that. But I just want to check in and make sure this is trulywhat you want. And, if so, how we can be your support. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zeb realizes through the calm, caring voice of the other man that he is concerned. <em>Space Dad indeed. </em></span>
</p>
<p>"Are we havin' The Talk?" he chuckles, diffusing the tension with a bubble of humor. <span>“Look, Kanan, I know you think of us as your kids, but I’m </span><em><span>older </span></em><span>than you. I </span><em><span>know</span></em><span> all about how the ‘birds and the bees.' M'not stumblin' into this relationship just because I'm lonely, or because I have nothin' better to do. It's because I actually <em>like </em>Alexsandr Kallus...as strange as that sounds. And, yaknnow, seems as though he actually likes me <em>back." </em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Kanan smiles at him with warmth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, we're not having the talk. And I'll never pretend that <em>I </em>would be the right teacher of romance." He sighs. "It's just that I'm...protective of you. <em>We're </em>protective of you. You have a family on the <em>Ghost </em>who cares deeply about you, Zeb. You know that? And we'll go any lengths necessary to remind you of that. So, if you want to date Kallus: fine. we'll accept him, like one of our own. Kriff, if you wanted to date a <em>wampa, </em>we'd accept that, too." He grins teasingly. "The important thing is that you understand that you have value, and that you treat yourself that way. I'm just checking in to make sure that you are in a relationship where you feel supported like that. It's important to us."  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moved with warmth and surprise, Zeb feels gratitude blooming inside of his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He's worried about me, because he loves me. My family--the Spectres--they don't know Kallus like I do. And it's difficult for them to understand what is happening between us. But, in time, I think that they will. Even though this is strange and difficult for them, Kanan is going out of his way to let me know that they're here for me. And that they'll be with me...with us...every step of the way.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The warm, salty moisture of tears wells up in his eyes. <em>That they are, and always will be, my supportive family. </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kanan makes a sound of concern. It seems as though he's picked up on Zeb's tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, Zeb! I didn't mean to cause you distress. What can I do to make it better? How can I support you right now?" He leans forward, earnest, whole body expressing the signs of care. "You're entering into a whole new place in life right now, and that can be stressful. I don't want you to feel like I have lingering resentment or anger at Kallus: I want you to know that we are here for you one-hundred percent, and that if there is <em>anything </em>that Hera and I can do, all you have to do is shout our name." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Jedi's affectionate declaration only makes the tears fall. But they are <em>joyful </em>tears. The kind that come from knowing that you are loved, supported and appreciated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks, Kanan," he rumbles, wiping an eye. "Don' worry: yer already doin' it. Right now, as we speak." He chuckles, and the other man grins. "I appreciate you tellin' me this. I hadn't thought to much about it yet, to be honest, but I suspect that it'll all come out at some point. Kallus has some pretty terrible things that he's done; it'll take time to work through that. But knowing that my family is here for <em>both </em>of us, and isn't gonna turn the cold shoulder, makes handlin' all of that so much better." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kanan hums with agreement. He reaches out with the force, draws Zeb a fresh towel to wipe at his running face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're welcome, Garazeb," he replies softly. "I mean it. Hera, too: every word. Life can be hard sometimes, but we don't have to go through any of it alone. You have people who love and care about you, Zeb. And you know that we'll be here, long-distance or short, to support you through any and all of those times." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His smile shifts--and it turns into something more amused. <em>Teasing</em>. Zeb cocks his head in confusion.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So: how about, let's start with some basics? Seems as though I've neglected to teach my oldest son how to use the kitchen." Kanan stands up, offering the seated Lasat a hand. "Come join me at the micro-oven, Garazeb Orrelios. It's high time that you learned how to make soup for the other members of your family." </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! I know this one was a little sappy, but that's alright. Please comment or leave kudos if you have the time. It really makes all the difference to know that there are readers enjoying the work! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>